


So Happy Together

by imonly_joking



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: 4x11 never happened, F/F, Fluff, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imonly_joking/pseuds/imonly_joking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of "Imagine Your OTP" stories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tug of War

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by another story, Domestic Interests; it's great, check it out. I'm not trying to copy it in any way. These will be short, 500-1000 words each, and take place in a happy world where 4x11 never happened and Samaritan was destroyed. This is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine.

**who hogs the blanket?**

   Almost every night, Shaw ends up taking the covers from Root.

   In her defense, before Root came along, she’d never sleep in the same bed as someone. She had no siblings or cousins to share with, she never had sleepovers as a kid, she’d never been in a relationship, and if she shared a bed with a one-night stand, she was usually too drunk to remember.

   In the early, friends-with-benefits days of their “relationship”, Root never really stayed the night. But then the three night rule was broken and Root somehow became her sort-of girlfriend and began living with Shaw in between jobs. On that first night, not long after they’d went to bed, Shaw’s breathing evened out and Root could feel her body relax. Just as Root was about to give in to her own exhaustion, she felt it.

   A tug.

   She figured Shaw was just turning in her sleep and ignored it.

   Then there was a second tug, harder than the first, followed by a third. And then a fourth. With the fifth tug, the cool air of the room hit Root as the covers were yanked off of her.

   Tired and a little bit pissed off, Root turned around, ready to complain, but she was met with the peaceful face of a sleeping Sameen Shaw. Root never understood women that gushed and “awwed” over things like puppies and children, but at the sight before her, she melted just a little. Shaw’s mouth was open just a little, a light snore and a tiny bit of drool already escaping.  

   A tiny part of her wondered if Shaw was just faking and took the covers just to annoy her, but Root knew Shaw would never be so desperate as to drool for extra covers and a little bit of teasing.

   Root thought about just yanking at the covers and getting her share back, but quickly dismissed the thought, knowing the agent would surely wake up and lash out. (After the “tasing, drugging, and kidnapping incident of 2013”, Shaw kept a ton of knives strapped to her headboard, just out of sight.) Getting attacked wouldn’t be fun for either of them and it would probably result in the appearance of the first aid kit Root had grown to know so well.

   So she did the only thing her tired mind could think of. She tugged lightly at the covers, managing to free enough of it that she could slip her wiry body under them. She pressed herself against Shaw, her head resting on Shaw’s arm. The warmth of Shaw’s embrace was more comforting than she’d ever imagined. Within seconds, she was asleep.

   The next morning Shaw had grumbled about the cuddling, but over time as the cover hogging continued, she’d gave up on complaining. Besides cuddling the hacker was surprisingly cozy.

   (Shaw would never, _never_ admit that the first few times the blanket-hogging been an accident, but now she just hogged the covers to get Root to cuddle her.)     

 


	2. All's Fair in Love and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got away from me and turned into "Root and Shaw at the fair".

**who rocks the Ferris wheel seat?**

There were always tons of fairs and festivals in Texas, but Root had never gone to one, seeing as they could never afford it or her mom was too sick. So when the chance came up to go to one, with Shaw, she took it.    

When a number came up for a man who just happened to be taking his family to fair that was just outside of the city, Shaw and John packed their bags and headed to the fair. And it just so happened that Root had finished working a relevant number and showed up. Root insisted that the timing was completely a coincidence.

“Imagine running into you here, Sameen.” Root said in her normal coy and flirtatious voice that Shaw actually found slightly attractive. Just slightly.

“Yeah, Root. Imagine that.” Shaw’s voice dripped with sarcasm and annoyance.

The job was fairly simple. The guy was some big shot business guy who had his part in deciding to lay off a bunch of factory workers and some of them hadn't take it too well. Two guys had been after him and they made to grab one of the kids. Shaw and Reese had the guys kneecapped before the kid had even noticed what was going on, and the number, however, cried, he actually cried, as he thanked them.

Naturally Root just watched, picking at cotton candy that she had conned John into buying her.

(“Feel free to help next time, Root.”

“I could, but you know how much I like watching you work, sweetie.”

“Whatever.”)

After reporting everything back to Finch, John made to leave for the hotel where they were staying the night. Shaw, however, wound up wandering the fair with Root. In her defense, Root had pouted, pulling the wide-eyed Bambi trick on Shaw, and Shaw wasn't in the mood to put up with Root’s pouting so she gave in. That was the one and only reason she gave in.

As the night got later and the crowd began to thin out, Shaw had to admit it wasn't that bad. As far as fairs went, it didn't smell too terrible, and some of the food was pretty okay. She’d even followed Root onto a few rollercoasters which were kind of fun, but not as fun as going to sleep would be. Root had made one too many jokes about Shaw being tall enough to ride rides, (she was two inches over the cut-off mark) and Root was probably going to have a bruise from where Shaw had elbowed her so many times.

However, just because Shaw was having a semi-nice time didn't stop her from doing her fair share of complaining.

“Come one, Root. I just want to go back and sleep.”

“No, I’m not winning you a stuff animal.”

“Let’s just go back to the hotel. Don’t look at me like that, if you’re going to stick around, I might as well let you stay in my hotel room.”

“Do you know how many kids and drunk guys have probably puked on this? And no, I don’t want to know the number your robot god just told you.”

“Seriously, you’re sleeping in the bathtub. And when we get home, you're sleeping on the couch.”

Finally after an eternity (for Shaw), Root glanced over at Shaw, a playful gleam in her eye. Root stopped walking and turned to face Shaw. Shaw raised an eyebrow as the hacker tugged on the green, fuzzy boa Root had won and insisted Shaw wear. Shaw reluctantly let herself be pulled forward and by pure instinct, her hands gripped Root’s hip. The taller woman leaned down, her lips brushing Shaw’s, but stopping just shy of a kiss.

“You still want to go back to the hotel?” Root asked, voice low.

“No, I actually decided sleeping at the fair-grounds is a good idea, Root. Of course I want to still go back.” Shaw said sarcastically, not stopping the eye roll. Root just smiled mischievously.

“I’ll make you a deal. We’ll leave if you go with me on that.” Shaw followed Root’s pointed look to the tall, colorful Ferris wheel.

“Hell no!” Shaw exclaimed, snapping her eyes back to Root. “There is no way you’re getting me on that. This” Shaw motioned between their bodies, which were pressed closer than she realized, “is not a date.”

Root gave her disbelieving look, tugging on the boa. “Sure, it’s not, sweetie.” She said in an extremely patronizing voice.

 “You’re not getting me on one of those and I’m not giving in. Come one, we’re leaving.”

\------

“What do you want to bet I can shoot that guy in the hand from up here?”

“Shut up.”

“She says there’s only a 12% possibility that I’d hit him in his hand, although my chances are decreasing every time we get higher.”

“Root, I’m going to throw you off.” Shaw kept her eyes forward, determined not to give in to the pout.

Shaw would never, never tell how Root got her onto the Ferris wheel (it most certainly did not involve Root threatening to withhold certain activities that Shaw enjoyed). She didn’t regret getting on the ride; the view was nice. The stars were slightly visible and Shaw could see a glow in the distance, the lights of New York City. She did, however, regret not wrapping the boa around Root’s mouth and gagging her. She’d probably enjoy it too much.

Root continued to chatter in her normal manner as she slipped her arm into Shaw’s, pressing into her side, trying to shield herself from the brisk breeze.

“You know, Sameen, when you get to the top, you’re supposed to kiss your date.” Root’s mouth was close enough that Shaw could feel her breath on her ear and smell the faint, sweet scent of cotton candy. (Root had eaten five cones of it, along with a funnel cake and a corndog in the last two hours. "I'm sure I'll find some way to work it off." She had said with a wink.)

Shaw was about to bite back with something just as sarcastic as Root was flirty when she remembered something, something that was so golden she didn't know how she’d forgotten it.

It was a couple weeks ago and the numbers, both relevant and irrelevant, were slow coming in. Root had showed up from her latest mission with a couple bottles of Shaw’s favorite drink and had somehow convinced Shaw to play drinking games.

Later in the night, when they were both drunk (Root more so than Shaw), their games had just turned into them drunkenly admitting stuff. After spilling secrets like different ways they’d killed people and how many times they’d been arrested, Root had let it slip that she was scared of heights.

Root was scared of heights and she’d dragged Shaw, Sameen Shaw of all people, onto a Ferris wheel. A Ferris wheel that was almost to the top.

Shaw snuck a glance at Root. The taller woman was the picture of innocence with her cheek pressed to Shaw’s shoulder, muttering some comment about kissing someone at the top of a Ferris wheel.  

Shaw bit the inside of her cheek to stop the smirk that’s threatening to form. This, this is too perfect to pass up. She might never get another chance like this in her life.

Their seat slowly began to move and Shaw waited till it stopped, till they were at the highest point on the ride. Then she makes her move.

She reared back, leaning her head back to make it seem like she’s stretching. Root seemed to fall for it because she untangled herself from Shaw and moved her own neck, working the kinks out.

Shaw was unable to keep the mischievous smile off her face as she jerked her torso forward and kicked her legs like she was on a swing.

The whole seat lurched not enough to be dangerous, but Root, seasoned killer and the woman that personally hunted down terrorists, screamed like a five-year-old girl. She instantly latched onto Shaw’s arm, hands squeezing with fear-fueled strength. Before Root had time to react, Shaw was rocking once more, making the seat dip forward again. This time Root tried to be more dignified, but a small squeak still escaped her mouth.

Shaw couldn’t help but laugh, feeling her satisfaction swell up.

The hacker turned on her. Root was unable to contain her own smile, but her eyes are filled with a murderous rage and Shaw was a tiny bit impressed (and suddenly a tiny bit turned on).

“Sameen Shaw!” Root exclaimed, voice still filled with slight panic. It only made Shaw laugh more.

By the time they got off, Root was laughing too. The guy in charge gave them a look and opened his mouth like he was going to reprimand Shaw for shaking the seat, but Shaw glared at him effectively shutting him up.

When they were nearing the entrance, Root had stopped and pulled Shaw into a soft kiss. "Thanks for tonight." Root whispered, eyes serious. Shaw just leaned in and kissed her again. 

Maybe the fair wasn't _that_ bad. 


	3. Better To See You With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not overly pleased with this one. I based Root's glasses off the ones Fred (Angel) wore because I read that they were Amy's.
> 
> Feel free to prompt some ideas because some of the prompts are hard to write for Root and Shaw.

**Who falls asleep with glasses on and who takes them off?**

Shaw trudged up the stairs of the apartment building at one in the morning. Her feet were killing her, she was exhausted, and there was a heavy, uncomfortable feeling in her gut, something akin to sadness.

Her number that day had been Rose Jackson, a recent college grad who was engaged to her long-time boyfriend. She was good kid that had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessed a murder committed by one of the higher-up Russians. Naturally, they'd ordered a hit on Rose as well. Rose and her fiancee had gone out that night and decided to take a romantic walk in the park after dinner. Shaw had taken out two Russians without the couple even noticing anything was wrong. She had jumped on the back of the second one, a guy that was probably a foot taller than her, and taken him out, efficiently and silently. She had just climbed off of his unconscious body when the shot rang out. She pulled out her own gun, firing two shots of her own into the mobster's chest, but it was too late. When she got closer, she almost did a double take at the sight before her. The girl was already dead and she lay face down, the only things visible were her wavy brown hair, long lanky body, and the dark red that was slowly seeping into the snow.

Shaw took out so many people in her days in the Marines and then working relevant numbers and none of the blood on her hands ever phased her. People died under her watch when she worked at the hospital and she never lost a night of sleep.

But then Finch and Reese came along, pushing their moral code onto her and then she was assigned to protect that damn kid. After Gen, Shaw had always felt guilt over the numbers they couldn't save or couldn't stop. Sure, it was only a time sliver of guilt and she still didn't lose any sleep, but it was more guilt than she was used to feeling. More guilt than she wanted to feel.

Not only had she failed this number, this brilliant and sweet kid, Rose had reminded Shaw of someone and she couldn't place it until she was standing over her dead body, the sobs of Rose's fiancee hitting her ears.

Shaw had gone back to the subway, endured Finch's speech about she did everything she could and it was dark and snowing heavily so there was no way she could've seen the third assailant. She patted Bear on the head and walked home.

Now, as she pushed the key in the lock on her apartment door, she was too tired and too cold to deny that she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Root and sleep.

She pushed open the door and the tiniest of smiles formed on her face at what awaited her. Root was sitting up on the couch in her pajamas, computer in her lap and glasses on her face.

The hacker was also 100% asleep.

Her head was laid back against the back of the couch, eyes closed, and fingers still laying on the keys of the laptop like she had fall asleep in mid-type. Shaw shut the door quietly, pulled off her boots and hung up her coat, and walked over to Root, the feeling in her stomach almost gone.

Code was still running across the screen of the computer, someone that was obviously not Root typing. As if it sensed her thoughts, the web camera's light blinked at her. The Machine must have taken over what Root had been working on. “Thanks,” Shaw said awkwardly as she spoke to a computer program, and picked the laptop up, turning it away from them. Shaw was thankful for the Machine and knew how much it meant to Root, but the thought of it watching her and Root, in their home, unnerved her just a little.

She turned her attention back to Root, who's mouth was open in a slight snore and was laying in a position that couldn't be comfortable. Shaw couldn't count the times she'd come home to find Root asleep on the couch or in the bed or at the kitchen table after falling asleep after working on some hack or code.

She reached out, taking the glasses off of Root's face. They were normal glasses, oval shaped and nerdy, that Root only wore if she was out of contacts. They were old and scratched up from Root's habit of biting on the end if she was deep in thought. Shaw liked it when Root wore the glasses because they were so Root. Since they'd met, she had watched Root live a thousand different lives and shed identities like a snake shed skin. Sometimes she wore colored contacts for an identity. Sometimes she wore glasses, black and square framed or thin, wire-framed. But she'd never seen Root wear these old, red, and oval glasses for a job and she liked that. They were a part of the real Root, the Root that she saw when they were by themselves at home with no numbers and no pretending.

Root's head lolled to the side, breaking Shaw out of her train of thought. She stared down at the glasses for a second more before folding them up and setting them on the coffee table.She leaned down, shaking Root's shoulder. “Wake up,” she said gruffly. No response. “Root, wake your ass up.” She shook a little harder and was met by blinking brown eyes.

“Sameen?” Root murmured, obviously still half-sleep. Shaw bit the inside of her cheek and just grabbed Root's hand and pulled her up, leading her into the bedroom. Shaw was so tired she pulled off her pants before falling into bed.

Root, who was probably more asleep than awake, ignored their usual game and just turned on her side, slinging an arm around Shaw's waist and curling up to her back. Shaw stiffened slightly, not used to being in this position, but as Root's breath evened out so did her nerves. She let herself relax and didn't fight it as she closed her eyes.

She fell asleep in the familiarity of Root.


End file.
